


Day Seven: Goodbye Kiss

by Wolveria



Series: OC Kiss Week 2017 [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone OCs - Freeform, Clones, Galar and Novac are both salty, Kissing, M/M, Not Beta Read, OC Kiss Week, OC Kiss Week 2017, OCKissWeek, Swearing, but they're sweet together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9343049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolveria/pseuds/Wolveria
Summary: Galar goes to visit his medic. Novac does not appreciate Galar's blasé attitude in regards to his own wellbeing.(For the OC Kiss Week 2017 Tumblr prompt!)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place an hour or so after Day 5: Fluffy Kiss.

“I can’t believe it,” Galar said under his breath, replaying the earlier conversation in his head as he impatiently waited for the medic to return.

Minus had gripped Solus into one of his obnoxious hugs after the engineer had revealed that their sergeant and commander had possibly had some kind of romantic encounter. Minus had released his brother and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. The heavy gunner might have been a loud, energetic clone, but he was always careful with his younger brother.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone—”

“No,” Solus had interrupted, shaking his head once. “I said ‘attempted.’ Not ‘succeeded.’”

“I… Oh.” Minus’ mouth shut with a pop once he fully realized what Solus was saying. “Wow. You’re saying the Commander rejected him?”

“I never indicated she was the one to decline.”

Galar closed his eyes again, sighing through his nostrils as he remembered the scandalized noise Minus had made after that statement. Why the heavy gunner was driven to curiosity by what their commanding officers did in their spare time, Galar didn’t know. Who cares? They were in the middle of a war that could drag on for years, and all that idiot wanted to gush about was salacious scuttlebutt.

“Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Galar opened his eyes at the voice of a brother, the clipped tone belonging to no one else but Novac of the Coruscant Guard medics. Specifically the one that treated Sabre Squad.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he replied smoothly, and was rewarded for his flirtatious tone by a sharp pinch in the side of his neck.

“Ow!”

“That didn’t hurt. Stop complaining,” Novac responded evenly as he placed the blood sample on a nearby tray.

“You know I’m not sick. So what’s that for?” Galar growled as he rubbed the side of his throat. _Fucking bastard,_ he thought with mixed parts affection and irritation.

“Checking for infection and anemia. You had a fair amount of internal bleeding from that shrapnel.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” the sniper grumbled as he attempted to bat Novac’s hand from his face. “Fully recovered, so quit babying me like I’m a fresh batcher who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Do you?” Novac asked, and the seriousness in his tone made Galar pause, meeting the medic’s gaze. He hated to admit how those golden eyes could make him sometimes forget his own name.

“Yes. I do,” he responded once he found his voice again, eyebrows creasing in stubbornness.

The blond clone sighed and placed his hands firmly on Galar’s shoulders, immediately making a blush crawl into his cheeks. He didn’t have to look around to know they were alone. Novac knew better than anyone how discreet they had to be.

“I sometimes worry that you think you do. But you don’t.” Novac’s hands, calloused by the continuous use of medical instruments, traveled to the sides of Galar’s neck. One rough finger gently rubbed where the skin had been bit by the blood sampler. “I see such recklessness in rookies too often. They usually don’t live very long.”

“I’ve survived so far,” Galar responded gruffly, doing his best to pretend Novac’s words didn’t affect him. “Clearly I’m doing somethin’ right.”

“You are. By relying on your brothers,” Novac said in a softer tone. “I fear the day you lose them will be the day you lose yourself.”

“Don’t talk like that.” His words were sharp, but then Galar sighed and placed his hand on the back of Novac’s wrist, gently squeezing it as he spoke in a quieter voice to match the medic’s. “Nothing is going to happen to us. Any of us.”

Novac gave him a crooked smile he reserved for moments of dark humor. “You speak as if we’re not in the middle of a galactic war, Gal. You know as well as I do that any day could be our last. Any moment could be the one we draw our final breath.”

Galar got to his feet, and though they were the same height, he still projected the aura of a much larger person towering over another. He took Novac’s chin gently in hand, but his voice was rough as he said:

“Now, you listen here. Nobody is goin’ anywhere. Nobody is _dyin’._ You get that morbid thought out of your beautiful head right now.”

Novac’s eyes had gone round, and Galar felt a small surge of pride. It took a lot for the medic to experience any sort of surprise or astonishment. As far as he could tell, Galar was the only one who could cause such reactions from the blonder man.

“While the sentiment is commendable,” Novac responded evenly, “you can’t stop people from dying.”

“The hell I can’t,” the sniper responded unreasonably. “And on the off-chance I do get my dumbass killed, you can bet I’m comin’ back to haunt you.”

The medic rolled his eyes dramatically, but the shaky grin he gave told Galar a whole other story. Clearly this had been something that had been bothering him for a long time.

“I’d expect nothing less from you, Gal.” He stroked the side of his face where the stubble was growing in, as Galar hadn’t bothered to shave for a couple days. He _might_ have put it off because he had a sneaking suspicion Novac enjoyed it. From the look on his face, Galar knew he was right.

“Just… try to stay as safe as you can,” the blond medic said as he continued to rub his thumb over Galar’s jawbone. “The protests are getting worse. The longer this war stretches on, the more volatile the situation will become.” Novac’s frown deepened, darkening the brilliant gold in his eyes. “I wish they didn’t station your squad in front of the Jedi Temple all day. Public perception will eventually reach a breaking point, and when it does, you’ll be on the front lines.”

Galar did _not_ like the worry in Novac’s tone and the growing anguish in his expression. The sniper didn’t worry for himself, or the Sabres. They would be fine. They were more than well-equipped to deal with a bunch of uppity civvies.

But the mental image of Novac moping around, waiting to see if Galar appeared on the casualty list after yet another riot…

Quickly glancing around the room to make sure they were still alone, Galar grabbed the medic by his slim hips and thought:

_Fuck it._

He pulled Novac forward and crushed his mouth against the medic’s, attempting to smother and chase away the worry and the fear. He held him tightly, almost possessively, and Novac responded by wrapping his arms around Galar’s neck, returning the kiss with ferocity. Someone could have walked in on them and they wouldn’t have cared. There was nothing in the world but the feel of Novac’s hot, searching mouth, the taut muscles of his arms, and the hard flatness of his chest and stomach.

 _Gods, I’m gonna find excuses to visit more often,_ he thought as he slightly bit into Novac’s bottom lip, drawing a moan from the medic and allowing him better access to his hot, wet mouth.

Galar didn’t ever want it to end, but eventually they had to come up for air. He attempted to pull away, but the action was made difficult by the fact Novac had twisted his fingers into Galar’s dirty blond hair. He refused to let go, and it drew a chuckle from the sniper.

“I’m coming back, Nov. You know that.”

The medic fixed him with a stare that was so intense, he couldn’t help but blush.

“Promise me.”

Galar leaned forward and risked pressing his lips gently against the corner of Novac’s mouth, knowing the medic might very well attempt to push him onto the nearest clinic bed and ravage him right there. The man could be a downright animal when he wanted to be, a fact no one but Galar knew. Most brothers knew him as the quiet, no-nonsense medic with few words to spare, and the ones he did were short and blunt. It made Galar’s chest warm to know this was a side of Novac no one knew even existed but him.

“I promise,” he whispered against his mouth, feeling Novac shiver under his hands.

“Good,” came his reply, though he didn’t release Galar just yet, instead leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Gal.”

If any other person in the galaxy had spouted such a sappy line to him, Galar would have made them feel like he was verbally dragging them over duracrete. But not Novac. Galar would happy listen to Novac read the Inner Core Farmer’s Almanac if it meant he could spend even one more moment with the man.

“You’ll never have to find out, Nov,” Galar responded with a gentle smile he reserved only for his medic. “I promise.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had a super fun time writing my Star Wars and non-fandom OCs! They were a hoot! I hope you enjoyed reading them too. <3


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